Liam and I sit by the stream talking for a long time. He’s got my hand in both of his and is sitting close enough so that I’m almost on his lap.

I tell him the whole story about me finding out that I was pregnant, knowing I should tell him but not wanting to because I figured it would change all this. I tell him I don’t want to be an obligation; I have means and support and my own strength, and I don’t need him to be any more involved than he wants to be. Liam’s lips brush softly over my ear, and in that low and sexy voice of his, he says, “Don’t worry about me, Lucille.”

He asks me questions. Lots of questions. Am I sure I’m feeling okay? Am I nervous? Do I know the baby’s gender? Can I feel the baby move yet? He tells me how a friend of his and Dec’s got married to a model several months ago; she’d had his child at the end of last year.

“I went to the wedding, so I know: they’re happy.”

“That’s good. Really good. But know I don’t expect anything. Okay? I mean that, too. I think that’s why I kept putting off telling you. It felt so nice being here and hanging out…” I shrug, and Liam’s arm goes around my back.

“Didn’t want to change that, aye?”

I smile at his accent, thickened by emotion, I guess. I nod. “Aye.”

“Nothing will change,” he says quietly, and then, “I’m glad we didn’t go zip-lining on the island. And the horses…” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure—”

“I read that they’re okay. Until my stomach starts to…show.”

I look up, finding his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. A teasing smile spreads over his face as he looks into my eyes. “We’ll find you a pony.”

I laugh. “No we won’t! I’m staying on a real horse. I’m a master rider, you know.”

Liam chuckles. “I’ll find a master pony for you.”

I punch him in the arm. He gives me the first grin I’ve seen in several hours. “If you want something bigger to ride?” He shrugs, and I howl at the pervy look on his face.

“You’re a pervert.”

“You’re one too.”

And somehow both of us are in the grass, and Liam’s on top of me until I turn the tables. Then I’m riding him. We kiss and kiss and kiss until I’m comfortable and not nervous, until I’m wet and throbbing. Then he peels my clothes off and I work his pants down. I play with his hard cock through the fabric of his underwear, loving the way he grits his teeth and moans; loving the control.

I strip his boxer-briefs away and take him in my mouth, teasing that notch underneath his head when he tenses and looks alarmed that I’m about to suck his dick.

“It’s fine,” I whisper. Then I lick around his head and take him deeper into my mouth, down my throat. I’m going to make him come like this, because I want—I need—to see him helpless, so that I can feel in charge.

For the same reason, I stop when he’s on the cusp. His balls are taut and hard, his cock swollen and jerking when I lick it, his abs quivering with every breath.

I pull his cock back and work my way atop him, loving the way he groans as I straddle him, teasing him there at my entrance the way he teased me.

“FUCK, Lucy…”

“If you’re sure you want it.” I grin, then I sink down on him.

It feels so amazing, all the pent-up pressure inside me tops off as I grind against him and Liam thrusts at the same moment. I come from just that one delicious motion, spasming around him as I cry out.

Liam’s chin tips up and his abs clench as he makes a tortured sound. Then I feel a burst of warmth inside me.

* * *

We decide to stay another night.

There’s a place near where we’re camped out called The Pool. It’s a tiny hot spring, but like the one on Pirate Island, it’s not that hot, so I think Lucy could get in it.

We spend the day fishing in a pond the stream leads down to, on some of the low lands around the castle. Then we both ride Pegasus to the hot springs. It’s the longest that I’ve been on the castle grounds in years. Hell, one of my longest stints outside in years, with the exception of some sailing excursions, and the week this summer when we camped at Patagonia.

As we ride Pegasus to The Pool, Lucy in the saddle, me behind her, I find myself telling her all about the summer. How Heath, our cousin Arden, his friend Bart, Ethan Lucas, a 20-year-old former boy band-er from the U.K., and occasionally Dec hit every continent but Antarctica in eleven weeks.

I can tell she’s holding back on something, so I pinch her hip and say, “What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“What aren’t you saying, Luce?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“C’mon now. I know you.”

“Do you?” Her back stiffens, and she sits up slightly straighter in the saddle.

I lift her hair and bite the nape of her neck. “Yes. I think I do.”

I feel her shiver. Just to be an ass, I bite her one more time. “Tell me.”

“You’re leaving a hickey!”

“You’ve got hair. No one will see. So tell me, Lucy. What are you holding back. If you don’t tell me, I’ll start guessing.”

She makes a pssh sound. “I’d like to hear that.”

“Okay.” I kiss her lightly on the nape, then smooth her hair back down. “I think it’s something relating to my Instagram account. You got quiet after I was telling you about Ethan posting that picture of the parrot.”

She sighs, just about the time I see the silver of The Pool, crisscrossed with the reflection of tree limbs.

“It’s not the parrot. It’s the women.”

“The women?”

“Not Ethan’s women. Yours, Liam.”

“I’m kind of lost.”

“Your women! From that entire trip. That’s all your Instagram feed was almost, at least there for a while. Just you and a bunch of models and the local girls wherever.”

“You don’t like that?”

It doesn’t make sense to me. Lucy doesn’t seem to be the jealous type, nor insecure.

“I didn’t mind it at all before I got to know you.”

“And now?”

She heaves another deep sigh. “Now it makes me wonder if this whole thing is a mistake.”

“What whole thing? You mean this now? With us?”

“I guess it’s not even a thing. Not really.”

I can feel her ribs expand with another deep breath. I can’t see her face, but I can feel her misery.

“Lucy…” I wrap my arms around her waist, spreading a hand over her belly. “It’s a thing.” I clench my teeth, trying to think of how the fuck to explain myself. I’ve never been good at this shit. I think of all the girls who’ve hunted me since I became a teenager, and I can’t a dry laugh. “I don’t even know why, Lucy. The timing…” I shake my head, thinking of Drucilla and Ronald. “Suffice it to say, I did not plan on this. Not this,” I clarify, stroking her flat belly, “but…this thing with us.”

It makes my chest feel tight to say it out loud. Like putting words to how I feel will make it fall apart. Will make her disappear.

“I didn’t mean to for it to happen,” I manage in a quiet tone.

“Didn’t mean for what to happen?”

I lean my forehead against her shoulder, breathing deeply as the world around me tilts.

“I didn’t mean to care for you this way. I never meant to care this way for anyone.”

I don’t even know it’s true until I hear the words spoken. Then I feel like something’s got me by the throat.

Lucy’s hand trails over both of mine, still clasped around her waist. Her fingers stroke the tops of my knuckles.

“It’s not just you. I feel the same way,” she says in a voice close to a whisper. Peg stops near the muddy fringes of The Pool, and Lucy looks over her shoulder, her eyes round and serious on mine.

“I was nervous that it was just me. It makes me glad to know it’s not.” She smiles, and all the pressure on my chest seems to dissipate.

“It’s not. Damn you, Lucy.” I pull her close, kissing her cheek. “I don’t mean that, acushla.”

I help Lucy off the horse, and seconds later, her back’s pressed against a tree trunk and I’m kissing up and down her throat. I can’t help myself. I need her. I hate it—and I love it.

“You’re so beautiful.”

We kiss so long and hard, first against the tree, then on a blanket I spread out for us, when Lucy pulls away panting, I feel dizzy. Her hand goes back between my legs.

“I want to get you off again.” She grins. “I like to.”

“I like you to, too.”

“But maybe we should get into the springs. It’s getting dark.”

She’s right; it is. Where did they day go?

“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s get in, then we’ll go back to the castle.”

“Someone else will pack up camp?”

I smirk, slightly abashed. “Of course.”

“Hey—I’m not complaining.”

We float in the springs for not as long as Lucy wants to—but I’m extra vigilant about the baby. “I don’t want you to get too hot,” I tell her as I dry her with a giant towel.

She snorts. “It’s way too late for that.”

I chuckle softly. “Lucy Su. That’s what your friends call you?”

“Yeah. For Lucille Sutton, which is my middle name.”

“I like it.” I kiss her neck, and soon it’s even darker. The moon is shining brightly by the time we leave the grove, Luce wearing one of my giant Sox hoodies, a pair of soft leggings, and boots.

As I wrap my arms around her waist and sway lightly with Peg’s gait, I’m forced to admit to myself that something is wrong. For the last half of the day, I’ve been feeling shitty—kind of nauseated, the way Lucy says she feels sometimes. As we ride back toward the castle, I wonder if her hormones could make me feel off as well. Or I’m having some kind of anxiety attack. My arms and hands feel weak, and my heart is racing bad enough to make me sweat. I’ve got a throbbing headache, so bad I lean my head against Lucy’s shoulder for a minute.

“You all right back there, butt rider?”

I smile weakly, nodding. “Headache.”

I squeeze her slightly, wrapping myself closer around her.

“I like it,” I whisper near her ear.

“Like what? Having a headache?”

“I like that you’re having my baby.”

“Yeah?” she says.

I fold my hand over her belly. “We’ll be good.”

“Good parents?”

I nod. “We don’t have to live here. We can raise it in America. Whatever we want.”

“Really?”

I nod. That much, I can promise her.

“Do you want to raise the baby together?”

I nod against her shoulder.

“What if…we’re not together?”

“Whatever we want, Luce. We’re the parents. I respect you, I like being with you. It’ll be okay.”

I cut my throbbing gaze up toward the stars. They’re bright tonight. They make me feel so fucking small. I hope I can be good to the baby. Nothing like my own father.

Thinking about him makes my head hurt more. I rest it against her shoulder again.

“You okay?”

I try to nod.

“Do you get migraines?” she asks.

“Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll slow your boy here down to more of a slow walk.”

“Thanks.”

I loosen my grip on her midsection and try to keep my breathing even as my mind races.

This is wrong, my conscience tells me. Make her go. It doesn’t matter if she thinks she likes you. Think about her safety, and the baby’s.

Now that I know she’s pregnant, what kind of person would I be if I let Lucy stay near me and the poison that’s my life right now?

I can feel my pulse pound in between my ears as my shoulders start shaking like my hands are.

Calm down, I try to tell myself. That’s the last thought I remember.